Skip to content


September 9, 2008

I’m not sure about other MilWives, but I often feel pressure living in a military community to be fit! skinny! beautiful! because the men are always mostly all of the above.  We moved to Kansas a year ago and regardless of the fact that we live in the most “active community in Kansas” I’ve found excuses not to take care of myself and remain active. 

Of course, battling depression for nine months messes with everything, exercise and personal care… not exactly top priorities.  Waking up each morning was hard enough.  Thanking God for the ability to wake up was doubly hard because I didn’t want to live anymore.  I did this all with a smile on my face deceiving those that love me.  In time, the excess flab started gaining weight of its own.  Today I find myself looking in the mirror going “where am I?”  Is that really me in there behind all the fat?

I’ve always been a pretty girl.  A “pretty face,” actually.  (Don’t ever tell anyone that they have a pretty face… just don’t.)  There have been times that I could turn heads and be confident in doing so.  Today, I’m just an overstuffed shell of who I was even just a year ago.  My body and my self image have spiraled out of control and it’s passed the point of effecting my marriage.  The Husband married a confident woman who was happy with herself and the decisions she made.  Confident in the ability to take care of myself better than anyone else.  I don’t know what happened to her.  Neither does The Husband… and he’s pissed (to say the least).

Of course, there’s always a right way and a wrong way in confronting issues in marriage.  The Husband decided that going for the jugular was the appropriate way of dealing with his issues with my weight and self-image the other day.  He broke me in a way that still instantly brings tears to my eyes.  There isn’t enough super-glue to fix what he’s done.  There is, however, enough tread on my shoes to make it better.  For myself.

After explaining the situation to The Lovely Co-Worker yesterday I came to realize that I might not be as terrible as I see myself.  I don’t weigh 300 pounds or look like I should be in a zoo on display for “unfit and ugly”, but at the same time… I feel grotesque and like I actually weigh a literal ton.  I don’t look in the mirror and think anything positive.  I imediately zone in on the trouble areas… I pick myself apart and talk smack to myself, as if that’s encouraging. 

It’s not in my genetic code to ever be a stick figure… but it’s also not in my genetic code to be sober… and I am (I used to drink a wee bit way too much… now I have a glass of wine and I get all tipsy).  I got a beautiful, encouraging email from my dad yesterday.  I digested the message he sent me, but I took something completely different than what he intended from the email.  My dad is sober.  After being an alcoholic for 20 years, if he can be sober and remain sober… why can’t I conquer this little weight problem of mine?  I was born a fighter… and I remain a fighter.  I can continue to lean on genetics for excuses… but I have realized, that’s all they are.  Excuses.

Last week I’d already made the decision to begin Operation Be Hot Again.  I knew that I was unhappy and there’s nothing in this world that’s a quick solution to this.  The timing of The Husband’s rant about wanting to be married to someone that actually liked herself was completely wrong.  The things he said were unforgettable, but I can choose to listen him and give in to the nasty little devil on my shoulder… or I can pick myself up, hold my head high and take care of myself.  I’m choosing the latter.  Also, because you know, I’m a MilWife… I have to handle situations in strategic ways…

I haven’t, and won’t change the way I cook, but I will change the way I eat.  I know myself and I know what’s worked before… everything in moderation, including creamed corn.  Just don’t go in for seconds… cause you know, that’s another mile or two to walk.

Creamed Corn
A Cat’s Pajamas Original

2 T butter
2 c corn (fresh or still frozen)
1 T corn starch
1/2 t freshly grated nutmeg
1 c milk (I use 1%)
Salt & Pepper to taste

In a deep non-stick (if you have one) skillet, melt butter over medium heat.  Add corn and stir to coat with the butter.  Sprinkle cornstarch over the corn, immediately add milk, nutmeg, salt and pepper.  Reduce heat to low and cook for about 10 minutes until milk has thickened. 


Enjoy.  One spoonful.  And really enjoy it because you know that it’s made with 1% milk… there’s no preservatives.  Enjoy it because you can’t eat it every day.  It is corn, after all.

Tomorrow I have an award to be thankful for and I’ll share another check off my to-do list!

2 Comments leave one →
  1. Trish permalink
    September 9, 2008 12:27

    I know how you feel. I don’t have a husband to remind me that I need to like myself, but I think that is the VERY reson why I don’t. I had to start my own little Operation….only it isn’t to be hot again…it is to try and be hot for the first time. You are a good person and I think you are beautiful. Men are asses sometimes and that is the reason I am often glad I don’t have one… know me….not happy one way or the other. I love you sister!
    You know, Trish. You are beautiful in every way. I know that doesn’t make any difference in how you view yourself, but it’s all part of a mental game I think. If I can talk myself into believing that I’m worthless because I’ve gained weight, if I can talk myself into believing that I’m ugly all around… then I have to give most of the credit to my head. I’m stronger than that, and so are you.
    As for not having a man… well, Trish. You’re one of the most no-nonsense people I’ve ever known. You’ve seen too much and been through too much in your life to deal with nonsense. Someday a good, strong man is going to waltz into your life and flip you upside down.
    I’m lucky to have The Husband, he’s wonderful… you know that. Sometimes he just gets tired of me being down on myself. I can understand that, but he needed to find another way to deal with it. Attacking my self-esteem when I do enough of that myself… yeah. Not cool.
    I love you girl. You are beautiful, you just have to remind yourself every once in a while who’s boss.

  2. September 9, 2008 17:35

    My mom once told me that men don’t care so much about the way you look so long as you are happy. They certainly don’t seem to spend the time obsessing over their looks that we do or even obsessing over their wives. These are generalizations of course, but I think they get a visual impression about someone being pretty or not, and then don’t pick it apart. Also, they are wired for problem solving, not analytical problem picking. I know your husband loves you and that you are perfectly 100 percent wonderful and loveable. I’m thinking about the first post I ever read here was right around your birthday time. I remember all the prizes he had around the house for you. I’m sure he only wants you to be happy, and probably is going crazy trying to solve it for you. Don’t be down on yourself at all-almost everyone has to lose weight in life at one point or another. Get it off and get back to feeling good, but with or without a little extra you are still you. You are still the good, kind, warm, charming person that I don’t even have to look at to know is beautiful.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: